


Control

by aubzylynn



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Character Death, F/M, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, but also fluff, fluffy endings guaranteed here babes, injured reader, winter soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 23:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17293319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aubzylynn/pseuds/aubzylynn
Summary: Request: Hi! I saw that you had your requests open and I was wondering if you could do a Bucky fic where the reader was also given the serum &trained with him along with the other winter soldiers but they developed something before she was frozen along with the others & he forgot her until he went to Siberia w/ Steve 7 he sees her chamber & realizes she escaped before Zemo could kill her so he tries to find her? Fuffy fluff & some angst please & thank you!





	1. Chapter 1

##  **Siberia, Russia; 1950**

“вставай!”  
 _Wake up!_

Huge hands wrap around your arms, yanking you from the cold. Your limbs thaw and grow slack around you. They feel like jelly, like they weren’t meant for you. Your legs won’t cooperate, they’re collapsing underneath you.

Yet, you’re still moving forward.

How?

You fight through the haze as your head lolls around on your shoulders. Blinking rapidly, you focus your eyes on the soldiers above you. They’re holding you up. They’re dragging you to a chair. You try to put your legs beneath you to stop them, but the ground is moving too quickly underneath you. They shove you in a chair roughly, your head slamming against the headrest. Fear holds you there.

Your heart rate picks up alarmingly, your breath tears in and out of your nostrils.

You can’t focus on what was happening.

Eyes darting around the room, you try to take in anything. Anything substantial. Where are you? Kidnapped? Lost? Bright lights erupt around you, and you close your eyes tightly to shield them from the glare. _Laughing. Swings. Beautiful long hair. Missing teeth._  You squint up at one soldier, his stony features undisturbed by your frightened voice. “Please. My Bella–my sister? Where is–”

A hand slaps you hard across the face, tearing your dry lip. You feel heat bloom on your face immediately. “Вы здесь не задавать вопросы.”  
 _You are not here to ask questions._

Blood runs down your chin, hot and thick. You want to ask  _why_  you were here; but you stop yourself, fearful that the soldier would hit you again. You try to remember where you were, what you were doing here.

Panic rises like bile in your throat. You can’t remember anything further from waking up. Except your sister. So solid and true. Beyond a shadow of doubt, you knew that girl with the missing teeth was your sister. You could hear her laugh. Where was she–?

The two soldiers were speaking to each other above your ragged breathing. Metal clamps made their way around your upper and forearms, restraining you to the chair. Your eyes dart from one clamp to another, back to the soldiers, and around the room. Their accents were thick as they spoke rapidly. You could understand most of what they said. When had you learned Russian–?

“Она вспоминает свою сестру. Лечение не работало.”  
 _She remembers her sister. The treatment did not work._

“Зола не будет счастлив. Она показала обещание, прежде чем вернуться в крио.”  
 _Zola will not be happy. She showed promise before going back into cryo._

One soldier shoves a rubber mouth guard through your lips, causing you to choke. He steps back. The machine surrounding you suddenly comes to life and crowds around s around your face. Your panic spiked, your breath ripping out of your lungs. “What’s happening?!” You shriek around the mouthpiece.

“Wipe her.” You heard a disgusted voice, full of disappointment.

You scream around the rubber in your mouth as searing, undeniable pain shoots its way through your system.

##  **Siberia, Russia; 1957**

Again and again, you awaken with shouts and commands to move. New handlers surround you, yanking you from your chamber if you didn’t move quickly enough. Each time, your panic subsides more quickly, replaced by defiance. You argued out of spite. Telling the HYDRA scum that you could not be contained. You thought you were putting a very bold middle finger out into their system, but you realized that all you were doing was hurting yourself. You were tying yourself down. You were giving yourself the electric volts straight into your cranium. Your actions caused your own discomfort, caused you to forget yourself again and again.

Your defiance crumbles into submission quickly enough. You learn to stop speaking out of turn. You learn to comply. You keep your questions to yourself, knowing whatever information you’re supposed to know will be given to you.

There are others like you – stoic, silent, deadly. Bred to be killers. You train with them daily, honing in your skills as assassins. There’s one that catches your eye immediately.

_The Asset._

He observes, mostly. Stalking around you and the others, eyes sharp, as if he’s waiting for one of you to attack him or the handlers. There’s enough weapons around – you could. You entertain the thought of throwing a knife straight between one of the guards’ eyes and dismiss it. No need to get yourself in trouble.

You’re sparring with a man who’s easily three times your size. He keeps coming at you, relying on his hulking size to drive his knife into you. But you’re lithe and strong. As he charges towards you, you widen your stance. Grabbing his knife-wielding hand, you twist it until it’s pressed against his back. He drops the weapon and falls to his knees with a sickening  _crack_ as you shove his arm between his shoulder blades. You push him into the ground and sit atop his back, smirking in victory as he wails and concedes below you.

You hear a chuckle amidst the grunting and yelling of your counterparts. You look up to find the Asset watching you. His mouth turned up in the slightest amused smile as he passes by. Your heart is hammering. Scrambling off your partner’s back, you await nervously for some kind of review.

He locks his cold blue eyes with yours, making you feel nervous and exposed for the first time in a long time. Your stomach knotted in on itself while your chest heaved, trying to regain composure. The ghost of a smile is gone from his features. “Еще раз.”  
 _Again_.

The Winter Soldier never spoke to you or your comrades. He never gave orders, never offered advice. He always circled around diligently like a hawk. His voice was smooth as silk as the command rang out. You smiled to yourself, a small victory won.

It became your goal to have him recognize you routinely after that. You pulled out all the stops during training. You hoped for his steely stare to critique your form. You wished he would spar with you himself. You desperately wanted to hear his voice again.

What was this feeling coming over you?

##  **Siberia, Russia; 1963**

You wake, feeling your body thaw from the cryofreeze and make your way to the chair without the assistance of the guards. They still surround you, hands on their guns. As if it was necessary, you scoff. You were one of the most well behaved soldiers in the program. You sit up straight, proud and elegant, awaiting your orders.

They probably wanted to send you out on a discreet mission to take care of a small nuisance. That’s all they ever took you out for. Two men burst through the door, striding purposefully toward you. Your breath hitches in your throat. One of them is a three piece, looking harried and important. The other–it’s  _him_. The Winter Soldier.

“цель миссии.”  
 _Mission objective._

The higher up in the suit shoves a folder in front of your face. You take it silently, sneaking a glance to the Asset before flipping through the pages to find a picture of a very young and powerful Senator – or whom you thought was still a Senator.

The man explains who the target is, that he is the current President of the United States. If he continues to hold office, he will dismantle everything that HYDRA has worked so hard to achieve. He goes on to tell you that you will accompany your comrade and over a dozen handlers. You keep your face stony and impassive, but your heart is beating wildly, pumping adrenaline through your system.

You’re going out on a real mission! Not some piddly scraps. And with–and with  _the Asset_. This was huge. You wanted to express some kind of thanks, some kind of appreciation, but you keep your lips sealed, read the file, and wait for further instruction.

“Солдат?”  
 _Soldier?_

You look up at the young man in the suit. He seems impatient, like he has somewhere better to be, and do more important things than tell you who you’re going to murder today. A slow smile pulls on the corner of your lips as you quietly rasp, “Я согласен.”  
 _I accept._

He nods as you rise from your seat and fall in step with the Asset. His metal appendage brushes against yours metronomically as you walk. It glints in the light from the overhanging lamps, and you realize the rest of your team has assembled behind you. Looking back discreetly, you notice a fairly large gang of the hardest looking men you’ve seen yet.

You suddenly wonder what year it was. The last time they took you out for a mission was in 1958 to arrange some ‘accidents’ for two political officers in Europe who were trying to shed light on subjects that were better to stay in the dark.

It didn’t matter. You were just curious.

##  **Dallas, Texas, United States; 1963**

You noticed that the Asset didn’t speak unless he was giving orders. You paid close attention the the orders he was giving to the other soldiers, noting the importance of the tasks and the sequence they were given in.

You were there as number two in command. Dedicated to protecting your comrade and take the mission over if anything were to happen to him. Nothing would, you knew that. The Asset was very good at what he did. His skills were the peak of excellence.

Lying on a rooftop, you and the Asset overlook the crowd that has gathered to line the street. He’s lying low, hiding behind his sniper. You’re on your belly beside him, pressed together from your shoulder to hip. Both watching as the motorcade slowly comes into your line of sight.

“Солдат,” his voice was low as his grip tightened on his gun. “идти вниз к обочине. Убедитесь в том, что я не видел.” He lifted his eye from the scope, his icy blue gaze piercing you. “Когда это закончится, встретиться со мной на свидание точке.”  
 _Soldier, go down to the sidelines. Make sure I’m not seen. When this is finished, meet me at the rendezvous point._

You nod, lifting yourself on your knees before answering, “Да сэр.”  
 _Yes sir._

You make your way down the building as quickly as you can. Taking off your mask, you tie it to your belt. You won’t blend in, not with this catsuit on; but, at least you won’t look completely like a suspicious fiend. Sunlight floods your eyes as you make your way out of the building and towards the throngs of people. They are all pressing as close as they can towards the street just to get a glimpse of this man.

You receive a couple of looks for your attire, but no one pays you any mind. You take in all the faces around you. Families, mostly. Children on their fathers’ shoulders talking excitedly as they wait. Women in pretty dresses, hanging onto the arms of men. People start to waive as the vehicles come closer.

One shot rings out, and it’s mass chaos. People scatter, ducking their heads beneath their hands, trying to find shelter. They’re all stupid fools, you think as you watch them all scramble around you. You’re an island, strong and anchored in these waves of disorder, still scanning the crowds for any danger to your comrade.

Another shot reverberates as people start to cry out. Policemen who had been assigned as escorts for the motorcade draw their weapons and search for the assailant. Your eyes stay glued on them, flickering to the black convertible. The car is nearly next to you, and you see that the objective is wounded, but not dead. You’re sure the Asset sees that, too.

One of the officers’ eyes go wide. He raises his pistol to the roof that your comrade is on. He’s inexperienced, you can tell. There is no way the officer will be able to shoot him. But, your mission is to keep the Asset safe. You quickly draw a handgun from one of the holsters on your body and shoot him twice in the chest. The civilians around you scream and scurry away, holding onto and protecting one another.

The final shot resonates and strikes the objective directly in the head, effectively killing him. A small smirk finds its way to your features before you realize you have to leave post hastily. You put your mask back on, covering the bottom half of your face; and walk between the clambering people who are still trying to find some refuge.

“Miss! Stop!” Someone calls, and you turn to see two officers chasing after you. Your gun is still in your hand; and you raise it, shooting the men without a second thought and watching as they fall to the ground.

Four of your handlers find you within minutes. You all make your way to a car that’s a little further away from the commotion. One soldier breaks into it, and you all load up and drive off before the authorities can think to put up barricades. When the handler that is driving is sure that you’re not being followed, he heads to the edge of the city.

You make it to the helicopter and are relieved to see the Asset is standing, waiting with half a dozen of his handlers. His mask is off, slung around one of his belt loops. You realize that yours is still on and remove it. After you exit the car, it drives away – no doubtedly to be abandoned somewhere.

As you make your way to the helicopter, the blades come to life, swirling the air around you. You look up at your comrade, hoping your face is expressing the relief that he’s there and alive. The corners of your mouth pull up into a small smile.

His hair is whipping across his face obstructing it from view, but you don’t miss the tiny smile he returns. The Asset holds out his hand to help you into the helicopter, and climbs in after you. A jolt runs through you as he sits next to you. There’s little to no space between the seats, so you’re pressed together shoulder to hip to knee. He’s warm and smells of metal and leather and something musky that has to be his normal scent. You fight the urge to lean your cheek against his shoulder. Sitting up straight and stoic instead.

##  **Jakarta, Indonesia; 1978**

Two sides of the same coin.

That’s the greatest thing that the handlers had to say after your first mission with the Asset. You and the Winter Soldier worked in perfect synchronization together. After that, you went on tons of missions with him. Your ability to follow orders and your judgement call in a tight situation became valuable to the Asset.

Through the decade at his side, you earned the name Foxglove. The Asset took to calling you that instead of his customary, “Soldier,” or “Comrade.” He said it was deceptively fitting; that you were also a soft, beautiful, and deadly flower. Those kinds of comments made your heart flutter in your chest.

Although you two hardly spent any ‘personal’ time together, you felt a connection with him. A deep understanding flowed between the two of you. It was something to be treasured, you didn’t feel this for any of your other comrades.

Especially not the ones you were forced to get along with.

You were on an undercover mission. A scientist in Indonesia was close to a breakthrough. Creating a new element. You had to go in, gain his trust and steal his work before killing him. This was no problem. You’ve done it countless times before, or so you’ve been told. But, you didn’t expect this man to try and be so personable with you. He was very forward, trying to get you to go out with him or work late with him whenever permissible. You hated it, but you had to go along with it for the sake of the mission.

“Come on, Amanda,” Hasan pleads, using the fake name you’d given, gently grabbing your hand. “I am so close! Just stay a couple more hours?”

You were posing as an American student who had come to Jakarta to learn more about this field. It was very hard to not revert back to your usual Russian, but you pulled off an American accent beautifully. “I can’t tonight, Hasan! I’m going out with my friends. Maybe we can come in early instead?”

The scientist pulled you close, drawing little designs on the back of your hand. “I was hoping to take you to dinner afterward.” His accent was thick and you struggled to not kick him away from you.

Your skin crawled the longer he touched you, so you pushed him away as playfully as you could. “Maybe just coffee in the morning?” You smiled and kicked an eyebrow at him before turning away.

“But–I don’t know what you like!” He calls, trying to get you to stay.

You pull open the door and repress a sigh. Turning, you plaster the delicate smile on your face. “You’ll figure it out.”

Your face falls out of the fake smile and you cannot put enough distance between yourself and this lab. You dash to the elevator, out of the building, and hailing a cab in record time.

When you get to your ‘home,’ you know the Asset is already there. You can practically feel him brooding and sulking on the other side of the door. You shove your key in the lock and push the door open, quietly calling, “Honey, I’m home!”

You laugh at yourself and flick on the lights. Sure enough, he’s sitting in his usual armchair with a deadly pout on his face. Despite your lack of a true relationship, you felt the need to tease him. “I’m guessing you saw Hasan begging me to stay late with him?”

He’s silently watching you as you put down your purse and kick off your shoes. You come to sit on the couch closest to him, tucking your feet under you. You lean your chin into your hand and smile, goading him to reply.

“I saw him hanging on you.” His voice was low and scratched its way out of his throat, promising some kind of danger. His eyes locked on yours, you saw the fire burning within them. “I almost shot him.”

You smiled, but what he said was lost on you. Your heart suddenly raced, your head falling into your hands. The world feels like it’s slowing down as your breath tears from your lungs.

_“Isabella, stop hanging on your sister! She has to go! “_

You snap back like a rubberband and sit up, looking around for the owner of the voice.

The Asset is kneeling in front of you, concern painting his features. His hand comes up to cup your jaw. “Fox, what’s wrong?”

As you take in his features, you feel like you know him. Not just as the Winter Soldier, or the Asset, or your comrade. There was something more behind this wall in your mind. You felt like you were seeing more clearly.

“Did you remember something?”

You sucked a breath in and nodded minutely. This was bad. You knew it. The handlers would not be happy–

He knows you’re starting to panic as he strokes his knuckles across your cheek. His voice is gravelly, but gentle. “Keep it to yourself, okay? Don’t let your handlers–hey, look at me.” You lock your gaze with his steely eyes. “The mission comes first.”

You nod, not knowing what else to do. Closing your eyes, you reign yourself back in. You have to ignore the itching thoughts in the back of your mind. The mission. Focus. You need this or the whole world could collapse into utter chaos.

You tell yourself these things, but you can’t help the question that bubbles up from you.

“Are we doing the right thing?” It’s quiet, and you’re not sure he’s heard you. You hardly heard yourself, but the guilt that comes with the thought of killing this innocent man consumes you.

Hasan has his breakthrough the next day, and the mission is finished. You and the Asset make his death look like an accident and go back to Siberia for your mission report.

Zola knows about your own breakthrough. You don’t know how, but he does. You and the Asset are always sent to the memory suppressing machine after missions, but this time was more purposeful. He kept you under the machine until he was sure you were a blank slate.

##  **New York City, New York, United States; 1999**

You come to find out that you’re unstable around the Winter Soldier. He’s more volatile around you, too. Your deep connection causes you both to become more lucid as the years go by. It was growing difficult to complete a mission when you were both together. But, the Asset had gotten to the point where he refused to go on a mission unless you were beside him. He would argue, telling the soldiers, or Karpov, or even Director Pierce, that he trusted you above anyone else. Wiping him did nothing. You were constantly in his mind.

You were dependent on him, even after having your memories suppressed time and time again. The moment you see him, you know there is a link there. You trigger each other’s memories out in the field more often than not. You had convinced each other to run away together more times than you could count. You thought that with your combined skills that HYDRA wouldn’t find you, but they always did.

HYDRA tried to keep you separated from the Winter Soldier, but certain missions required both of your skills.

You’re both currently sitting on a rooftop, the target’s home in your line of sight. The Asset is next to you, shoulder to shoulder, tracing the lines on your palm. Moments like this are rare where both your handlers and his are absent. This deep relationship you feel with the the Asset makes you wonder how long you’ve actually known him and why HYDRA keeps wiping him from your mind.

You felt like you had to be next to him. It wasn’t possessive, or even the knowledge that you’re supposed to protect him. It’s more like a confirmation that he’s there, that this man you share a bond with is a true physical being. Having him beside you helps you confirm that this link isn’t just some made up theory in your head.

“Maybe we should disappear,” you whisper into the night. The Asset’s light touches stop and you look up at him to see fear in his blue eyes.

“Do you remember what happened last time?” His voice is loaded with feeling, making you desperately wish you could remember anything. You kicked at the wall in your mind, trying to have any memory come back to you. Shaking your head, you grasped his hand and laced your fingers together. You glance over to the target’s home and see he’s still glued to the television.

“They caught us before we made it out of the country,” A dark look passed over his face. “I can’t tell you what they did to you when we got back to Siberia.”

You nodded, dropping your gaze to his thumb, watching as it made gentle, soothing arcs across the back of your hand. You feel trapped, like no matter what you do, you’ll always belong to HYDRA. You pushed the thought far from you and shifted closer to him. “I think I had a dog.”

You both did this sometimes – assumed things about who you were before being part of HYDRA. He chuckled and you peeked over at him. His smiles were so rare. You liked the way his eyes crinkled around the edges. “I see you as more of a cat person.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Maybe I had both. I remember Paris. A creek by our house, maybe?” You shake your head, hearing the little girl’s laugh. You hear her laugh all the time when you try to remember things.

The Asset squeezes your hand, shaking the weight of the memories from you. “I remember a living room. Couch cushions on the floor. A nurse.”

You crack a smile. “This got very adult-themed.”

He realizes how it sounds and blushes. You save the image of the light dusting of pink across his cheeks with a sense of pride. “No! Fox, you’re–” he laughs quietly. “I think the nurse was my mother? I don’t know, but it feels like home.”

“Do you think we would have found each other if this hadn’t happened to us?” you ask suddenly, brows knit together. “I don’t know if you feel it, but there’s a connection here–”

He nods instantly, obviously relieved that you feel the same thing he does. “Fox, there’s only one thing I’m thankful for.” His cybernetic hand comes up to cup your cheek.

You lean into his cool touch. “What’s that?”

“Finding you.”

You gasped, holding your breath with the tension you felt. The Asset combed his fingers through your hair, tucking it behind your ear, before pulling your face up. His eyes were more expressive than you had ever seen them. His thumb brushed against your cheekbone as you tilted your head and closed your eyes. You felt his breath fan across your mouth before his lips molded to yours with the faintest bit of pressure.

His phone went off, loud and annoying, and you jumped away from him like a jolt of electricity ran through you. Gasping, you press a hand to your mouth and walk away from him. Shit, shit, shit! Repercussions were going to be harsh. Your handlers were going to know–they were going to find out. They were going to wipe you both – or worse. You knew it. You tried to pull yourself together and focus on the Russian that he was fluently speaking into the phone.

“Да, сэр, я понимаю.”  
 _Yes sir, I understand._

The Asset flipped the phone closed and put it in one of his pockets. “Fox,” he reached out for you, fingers brushing against your shoulder. You turned to him. His eyes were wide with concern. You knew he had to be thinking the same things you were. “We have to leave.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and followed behind him. You tried to bite your lips to rid them of the feeling of his against yours, but the tingling persisted.

##  **Siberia, Russia; 1999**

The flight back to base was quiet and tense. The handlers seemed more distant than usual, but you tried to act normally. As soon as you arrived on base, a soldier came up to you and the Asset, purpose and authority in his stride. “Карпов хочет, чтобы вы два для отчета миссии.”  
 _Karpov wants you two for mission report._

This was unusual. After a mission, you and the Asset would turn in your weapons, clean yourselves up if needed, deliver the mission report, go to the machine, then back to cryo. You shared a look with your comrade, hoping he would understand the change. He tilted his chin forward, telling the officer to lead the way. His features softened as he glanced at you, his eyes flashing with worry before becoming reassuring.

Your arm brushes against the Asset’s flesh arm as you stayed in step down the hall. Two soldiers start walking in front of you, now; and nearly half of your team from the mission follows behind you. They all have their weapons. You consciously have to remind yourself to keep your face impassive, even though your heart is thundering in your chest. Your mind has one single thought on a loop as you enter the room:

They know, they know, they know.

Karpov is sitting towards the back of the room at a table. Two empty chairs wait for you and the Asset on the other side. Your escort party disperses around the room, all hands on a weapon, ready and waiting. You sit and wait anxiously for the report. Your commanding officer’s eyes pierced into you both. “Доклад миссии.”  
 _Mission report._

The Asset dove into the report, telling Karpov that you both watched the objective, trying to find a way to get him cornered on his own. The mission cut short because he had ordered you both back before the mission was complete–

Karpov dismissed the Asset with a scoff, turned to you and asked for a mission report. You looked at him questioningly, then at your comrade.

“Сэр, я запутался. Зачем вы меня спрашиваете? Он говорил вам, что мы делаем.”  
 _Sir, I’m confused. Why would you ask me? He was telling you what we were doing._

You know as soon as the words leave your mouth that this was the wrong move. You do not question your commanding officer when you’re in Winter Soldier mode. You obey. You comply. You’ve given yourself away, now. Karpov’s eyes glint with understanding, and now you know that he is also aware. He’s aware you’ve had another breakthrough. He’s aware that you and the Asset took an opportunity to isolate yourselves from your handlers. He knows about your kiss.

You blanche and gnaw at your lip. You drop your stoic facade as you feel the Asset tense beside you. He’s figured it out, as well.

“Ваши обработчики сообщили мне о ваших действиях. С этого момента, вам запрещено работать вместе. Отведите его к стулу.”  
 _Your handlers have informed me of your actions. From here on out, you are forbidden to work together. Take him to the chair._

You and the Asset stand, yelling out in protest. He flips the table, grabs your arm, and orders you to run. An alarm is blaring, soldiers are pouring into the vast room, blockading you both in. The Asset pulls a gun from one of the holsters and starts shooting. You do the same. The handlers start dropping one by one, and you have a small glimmer of hope that you’ll be able to make it out this time. The Asset’s cybernetic hand is still wrapped around your arm, holding you close, assuring you’re safe.

Your hopes are smashed as the Asset is shot, a pained cry leaving his lips. You turn to him on instinct and start to check him for his wound. Your momentary distraction causes a soldier to come up behind you, pinning your arms between in his own and effectively disarming you. There’s too many of them. You watch, helplessly, as the Asset is taken to the machine that will wipe him. You’re faintly aware that another soldier is digging through  your various pockets and holsters, ridding you of your weapons. As soon as the Asset’s strapped to the chair, you lose all will to fight. Your knees give out beneath you, and if the soldier weren’t still holding you up, you would be crumpled on the floor.

Karpov shoves a rubber guard into the Asset’s mouth and the face guards come down. Your heart is thundering in your chest as you try to think of something–anything to make this stop. You know nothing will work.

The soldier detaining you chuckles as the Asset starts to scream in pain. “Вы не будете так повезло, Фокси. Он новый кулак HYDRA. Вы неудобством. Они будут прекратить вас.”  
 _You will not be so lucky, Foxglove. He is the new fist of HYDRA. You are an inconvenience. They will terminate you._

Your heart races at his words. You cannot let this happen. Scanning the room, you see that a lot of the soldiers had left to go back to their posts. Now or never, you will never get another chance.

You tighten your arms in his, and rear your head back as hard as you can. You hear a nauseating crunch. He cries out in pain as he releases you. You take a knife from a sheath on the back of your suit and cut one soldier’s throat before he can draw a gun. You wield it, stepping closer to Karpov. “Let him go,” you spit.

He laughs, pulling the alarm again. Its siren wailing loud and obnoxious. “Это не закончится хорошо для вас.”  
 _This will not end well for you._

You swallow, hearing the thundering of footsteps. He’s right. You have to make a choice. Now.

You spare a glance at the Asset, who is still screaming in pain underneath the machine, as the first soldiers make their way back to the room, guns drawn and firing. You dodge them, making your way to an exit that’s not yet flooding with soldiers.

You don’t get far down the hall before bullets ring out around you. You look behind you to see four guards firing at you, and you hear more coming into the corridor in front of you. You stop and consider your options for only a second before you run and collide through the window.

You hold your breath as you’re airborne, bullets flying by you. You feel two bites – one in your leg, another in your back. You tuck and roll as you hit the ground, crying out in pain, and get up as swiftly as you can. Gunshots and alarms are resounding behind you, motivating you to keep moving forward until you’re safe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: “Hi! I saw that you had your requests open and I was wondering if you could do a Bucky fic where the reader was also given the serum & trained with him along with the other winter soldiers but they developed something before she was frozen along with the others & he forgot her until he went to Siberia w/ Steve & he sees her chamber & realizes she escaped before Zemo could kill her so he tries to find her? Fluffy fluff & some angst, please & thank you!”

##  **Siberia, Russia; 2016**

**Bucky’s Point of View**

“I got heat signatures,” Tony starts. Steve asks how many, and Stark replies with, “Uh, one.”

Coming back willingly was absurd.

This was the last place I wanted to be. I’ve done everything in my power to put this place out of my memories over the last two years, and here I am willingly walking back into danger with this punk all over again.

I guess history does repeat itself. Hopefully the end result will be kinder this time.

My head is getting foggy with memories. Each machine and room that we pass by has memories threatening to tear my mind open.

Gotta stay focused.

Lights come on in each of the chambers, mist falling over them as the machines come to life. I grip my gun a little tighter, knowing what’s supposed to come next.

“If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.” Zemo’s voice comes booming from the shadows. “Did you really think I wanted more of you?”

Six chambers, five filled with dead occupants. Steve, Tony, and I circle around to each one, seeing they all have a bullet through their head. The one closest to me is empty. But it wasn’t mine. Something is struggling to break through in my mind. Is there another monster loose? One that Zemo missed?

My heart feels like it’s being tugged out of my chest. I can’t breathe. My head is swelling and constricting at the same time –

_She gets out of the car and makes her way towards me gracefully. She looks relieved, like she wasn’t sure that I would make it back. It’s a curious expression. None of my comrades have looked at me like that. And when she smiled – I couldn’t help it when the corner of my mouth quirked up in response. The bond was instant. I couldn’t have fought it off, even if I had wanted to–_

_She’s hurt. She’s bleeding. Fucking bastard. The man responsible wasn’t the objective, but I made sure to put a few extra bullets in his skull for causing her pain. Foxglove. So fitting. Her brow is contracted in pain, she’s putting pressure on the wound as our handlers swirl around us, doing god knows what._

_Tiny wisps of her hair are clinging to her forehead. She’s forcing even breaths, smiling at me. It’s small and reassuring, and I can actually feel myself falling into the void that I know I’ll never come back from. She’s too good for this world and I realize that I can’t live without her–_

_“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she whispers, fear and excitement prominent in her tone. I grab her hand and squeeze it gently. It’s absolutely thrilling and terrifying. Escaping HYDRA. We can start a life together. We won’t have to hide. I glance over at her, and she’s biting her lip and scanning the street. Her expressive eyes meet mine and I’m locked in. There’s so much hope written in her features. My heart soars with the thought that she’s excited to live a normal life with me. My gaze darts down to her lips, so plump and soft. I can’t wait to taste them, but now’s not the time for it–_

I’m on my knees in front of her chamber. My heart is thundering and I can’t seem to catch my breath.

“Bucky! Are you okay?!” Steve yells, darting to my side. His hand lands on my shoulder, and I have to force myself to not recoil from his touch.

“Fox,” I mutter her name like it’s the only word I know. I stand slowly, looking around the room, hoping to see some sign of her; but from the state of her cryo chamber, she hasn’t been here in quite some time. My sight locks on Steve, he still looks worried. I realize I haven’t answered him. “I’m fine,” my voice is raspy, I feel it scratching its way through my throat. “Just memories, Steve.”

He turns his attention to a screen that Stark’s focused on. “What’s this?!” He yells, trying to get Zemo’s attention.

My motorcycle revs and a car crashes.

I know exactly what they’re watching.

##  **Wakanda, Africa; 2016**

**Bucky’s Point of View**

I feel off balance without my arm. I have to take an extra moment to stabilize myself as I get up. “Steve, you don’t understand. I have to find her.”

He’s pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing like I’m some kind of child with an unreasonable request. “How are we supposed to find her, Buck? Do you remember the last time you’ve seen her?” He looks to T’Challa for support. The king is on the other side of the room, gazing out the massive windows into the lush jungles outside his home. He’s been quietly listening to my request.

I sigh and scrub a hand down my face. “No. But, she wasn’t in Siberia.” I want to stride out of the room and take this into my own hands, but I know I can’t. Steve and I – the others, too – we’re all fugitives, which makes my mission to find her harder. “She and I tried to escape HYDRA more than once. Maybe she succeeded–”

Steve’s nodding, consenting, which I don’t expect. After everything we’ve gone through over the last few days, I was gearing up for another fight. “What do you need?” T’Challa asks, his regal features turn away from the window and towards me.

“Just a place to work,” I reply.

Steve claps me on the shoulder as we follow T’Challa to one of the numerous rooms in the palace.

I can feel Steve’s hesitation, I know that look on his face. But, I know he realizes that Fox is good for me. She was the only good and stable thing I had outside of cryo. He wants me to be happy, and she’s the only happiness I’ve known.

##  **Wakanda, Africa; 2016**

**Bucky’s Point of View**

Weeks of searching brings me nothing.

Even with the others’ help, the search is fruitless so far. Scott got us hacked into different security cameras around the world, and Wanda tried her hand at knocking through this wall in my head. A few memories poked through, but it wasn’t enough.

So, I resort to good, old-fashioned research. Each article about the Winter Soldier and Foxglove sparks memories and scratches at things behind the wall in my mind, but I can’t access them.

I remember that she was a good soldier. She listened well when she knew she had to, but she could be mouthy. She fought with everything she had when she didn’t believe we were doing the right thing. She was so soft. Impossibly so for someone who was in such a poisonous organization. I remember that she liked to tease me, even when we didn’t know each other. If a comrade or target got too close, she would always bring it to light, like she knew of our deep bond.

There was one picture I found during my search of the two of us. I was in my full uniform, eyewear and mask included. But, her mask was attached to her belt. Her wild hair was barely contained in a side braid, and her features hard and relentless. It’s incredibly grainy, the quality of the photograph is poor; but I’m captivated by her physical beauty. Her eyes – the way she would watch me, like I was something to be admired. Her voice – somehow smooth as silk and melodic. I desperately wanted to hear it again. Her smile – god, her smile. Each one different, conveying a menagerie of things; but they all stopped my heart, every time.

I held each of these memories close, but none of them were beneficial in finding her.

I find through meticulous research that she was possibly taken as a prisoner of war around the same time I was. I wrack my brain, fighting through the haze of seventy-something years, hoping I can remember if I knew her before all this–

_“I think I had a dog,” she smiles softly, trying to change the subject._

_I shake the memories of her screams away and take in her words. I could see her owning a dog; but more so a cat, and I tell her so. The thought of her as a civilian with a pet brings a genuine smile to my face. I lace my fingers more solidly with hers, the physical contact is soothing._

_She hums in agreement. “Maybe I had both. I remember Paris. A creek by our house, maybe?”_

_She’s got a faraway look in her eyes, sad and confused. She doesn’t know if it’s true, and she’s haunted by that–_

I come back to myself with a hard snap.

Paris.

Set with a newfound determination, I change the cameras on the screen to Paris. It’s a longshot. She was guessing. At that point, she could have been making it up, but I had to try something. I was getting desperate.

I search through and watch different street cameras, hoping for a glance of her.

Days pass, then weeks, but I can’t go to another city. I cycle through the city’s motorcams, the security cameras on businesses, public safety cameras. Something is telling me that she’s here. She would have gone straight to Paris once she knew she wasn’t being followed, once she had successfully escaped.

I’m glancing between four different angles of the same intersection. There’s a park off to the side of two cameras, a busy street lined with cars, and businesses on the side of the other two screens. A police car comes to life, lights flashing as it speeds into view. That was a normal occurrence, the car didn’t catch my attention.

The woman on the bottom left screen did.

She tenses when she hears the sirens. It was a routine traffic stop – there was no reason for her to be suspicious. But I know better. I’ve lived with the fear that those sirens were meant for me. I was on the run from HYDRA, a wanted criminal, and thinking they finally found me. The other pedestrians continue to walk to their destinations, but not this woman. She stops, holding a hand to her chest, and glances around the street before darting to the other side. She’s visibly shaken, still. She’s trying to go to her safe place.

I try to keep her in the sight of the cameras, looking for her olive green jacket. At one intersection, she glances up at the road signs and I can finally see her face, unobscured by the hat she’s wearing. My heart stops.

It’s her.

It’s Foxglove.

I stare in shock as she tucks her chin back into her chest, keeping the bill of the hat low over her eyes. She fidgets with her purse strap as she and other pedestrians wait for the crosswalk to become available.

I can’t believe it. She’s there. She’s real on this screen in front of me. She’s–

Holy shit. She’s alive.

I watch her trek until her figure rounds a corner and I can no longer follow her with the public cameras. I stare at the last place she was seen for a moment. I had hoped that I would find her, but in my wildest dreams, I never thought… Holy shit.

I have to go to her.

I bolt up from my desk and grab a hat and jacket before pulling my shoes on. I leave my bedroom door wide open in my hurry to get to Steve. Thankfully, his room is right next to mine. I pound my fist on the door before barging in. Steve’s sitting up on his bed, rubbing at his eyes; and I only just realize that it’s gotta be late. “Sorry, pal. I found her. If you’re comin’ with me, you gotta get your ass outta bed.”

It takes him about seven seconds to put my words together. I know he just woke up, but I’m impatient. “Any day, grandpa! Shake a leg, let’s go!”

Steve stands and swings at me playfully, but I see the smile on his face. He’s excited.

Hell, I am, too.

##  **Paris, France; 2016**

**Your Point of View**

“Merci,” you smile sweetly and tip your head in thanks to the young cashier. The small bells on the door jingle as you exit onto the busy sidewalk. You sling your purse around your body and zip it up before making your way towards the park. It was after school, Claire would would likely be there.

Six blocks down, and you’re starting to feel exposed. Someone is watching you. You wait to observe your surroundings until you’re at a crosswalk. You keep your face neutral, acting as if you’re boredly looking around at the other pedestrians around you. Nothing too out of the ordinary. You look up into the buildings around you and see nothing, nobody. You feel it again as you move through the crowd. Someone’s eyes on you. Your heart rate picks up a little. First, the sirens the other day; now this? You haven’t felt this out of sorts in years.

You chew on your bottom lip, contemplating going back home instead. The crosswalk flashes green, and you see him. He’s across the street. Inconspicuous. You know it’s him because of the way his eyes dart away from you as he pulls his black cap low over his face. He’s got a blue henley on, pulled taut across his massive chest under a black jacket that’s zipped half way, well fitted jeans and tennis shoes. Definitely not HYDRA. Maybe not definitely, but you knew they didn’t usually send assassins out in civilian clothes.

There’s no outline of a gun in his jeans, or a bulge in his jacket. It’s not likely that he’s without a weapon. You grip your purse a little tighter to you, unzipping it again so you can reach your pepper spray if necessary. You curse yourself mentally for not at least having a knife on you. It hasn’t been necessary, but of course, the one time you might need it…

You stay in pace with the pack of people around you, knowing at this point that your safety relies on numbers. HYDRA – or whoever he’s with – can’t capture you if there’s people all around you. Panic begins to set in when your group of pedestrians starts to thin out.

You keep him within your peripherals. He moves when you do. The number of people around dwindles to less than a dozen. Dread fills your gut as he makes his way across the street. You keep your head bowed, and pull the collar of your jacket up just a little. You’ve gotta lose him.

You turn immediately to a busy little side street. Realizing you need to change your appearance, you yank your jacket and hat off quickly. You fold them in front of you, hoping they’re not seen. You’re assuming that’s at least partially how he’s tracking you. You turn into the first shop that’s available. A sigh rattles through you, seeing it’s a fairly large bookstore. There’s quite a few patrons in here, and you hope you can find a back exit. You weave in and out through the shelves, acting as if you’re searching for a selection; but keep your eyes darting around the store. You come to a little nook area with seating and ditch your discarded clothes there. You quietly make your way to another row of shelves, then you see him.

Shit.

He found you. The same man that was following you out on the street. You clench your jaw and breathe in shakily to calm your nerves. Your muscles tense with anxiety, readying themselves for what was going to come. This was going to go down in a fight.

It always does.

The back exit is just a few feet away. Maybe, if luck is on your side, you’ll reach it before he reaches you. You wipe a hand over your face and calm yourself down, turning to head to another row of books.

“Excuse me, miss?”

His voice is quiet and unsure, but you could never forget that baritone timbre. You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your entire body going slack. You stop walking immediately as tears spring to your eyes and your heart falls into the void.

After seventeen years, the Asset has finally found you.

Of course this is how HYDRA would take you down. They would send the love of your life to find and kill you. You’d had nightmares of this scenario for years. Closing your eyes, you breathe and gather yourself. You will not go down without a fight. You will not give up your freedom.

In your peripherals, you see him coming closer, his movements are cautious, hands up in surrender; but that does nothing to reassure you. You know he’s here to finally carry out HYDRA’s plans to kill you. Turning to face him, your features set in fear. Your breathing becomes erratic as you feel your muscles tense for a fight.

He stops, jaw falling open slightly. His eye shine like you’ve never seen before, and his hair is just a bit shorter. He hasn’t aged a day. Your heart swells at the sight of him and shatters simultaneously. “Foxglove,” he whispers that name you haven’t used in so long like you’re the answer to a broken prayer.

You take in his features, committing them to memory once again, before taking off down the row of shelves. He’s hot on your trail, knowing that you’d run. He tries to grab your arm, but as soon as you feel his hand close to you, you turn, and roundhouse kick him into a shelf that topples under him. “Fox, wait!” he calls as you dart out of the emergency exit.

Alarms are wailing in the bookstore, but you don’t stop running. Not until you’re sure he’s not following you.

##  **Paris, France; 2016**

**Bucky’s Point of View**

I hold onto my side as I make my way back to the hotel room. Fox may have been out of the game for a while, but she still knew how to pack a punch. Or, in this case, a kick. It hurts to breathe, I wonder if my ribs are bruised.

I understand why she reacted the way she did. Hell, I even expected it. What I didn’t expect was the way she looked at me. It was clear that she remembered me. Her eyes filled with so much hope and fear. Such longing and pain. The way her bottom lip quivered right before she drew it between her teeth was heartbreaking. She was just as beautiful as I remembered.

I swipe the keycard through the lock and let myself into our hotel room. Steve was standing with his arms folded across his chest, watching the news. There was a local report about our fight breaking out at a bookstore.

His features are hopeful as he turns towards me, but takes in my injury and instantly goes into mom mode. He steps  towards me to try and help, but I wave him away. “How did it go?” he asks gently.

“I think you know,” I nod towards tv. Steve does a double take, and it almost makes me laugh. “She thought I was the Winter Soldier.” I answer before he can ask. I sit on the bed gently, aware of my side that’s still throbbing with pain. “She probably thought I was there to kill her. But she looked good.” I swallow, nodding solemnly. Steve sits, enraptured by my explanation. “She looked like she was just trying to live. Piece herself back together.”

“Like you were. In Romania.”

Looking towards Steve, he’s got a far-off look in his eye. He’s still trying to piece his life back together, too.

I have to go find her. I stand, hissing in pain and head towards the door. Steve stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “Buck, you need to rest. Give your body time to heal before you go back out there.” Clenching my jaw, I can’t really say anything against it. There’s no way I’d be effective going out like this. “How long has it been since you’ve slept? Get some rest, and in the morning, I’ll help you find her.”

I conceed, nodding, and he claps his hand on my shoulder.

After a shower, Steve’s out like a light. But I’m wide awake, laying here on this too-soft mattress, feeling like I’m going to sink into the void. The whole encounter is playing through my head on a loop. She knew I was following her. She tried to lose me, she tried running. She was evading instead of attacking. But when she finally looked at me… God, her eyes could always tell a story. The intensity of them knocked me stupid for a minute. I forgot how gorgeous her eyes were; and the way her eyebrows pulled together when she’s scared, making that little crease between them.

This is going to drive me insane!

My ribs don’t hurt nearly as badly as they did before. I could go out and try to find her. She’s gotta live somewhere close to the intersection I found her at.

I get up with a groan. Steve is going to get up soon, and I know he’ll want to come with me if I’m here when he wakes. Not that I don’t want him with me. I just want to do this on my own. He’s gonna be upset when he realizes that I’ve given him the slip again.

It’s just before dawn. The sky is thinking about waking up, but it’s not too sure about it. I wander around the city – it’s practically a ghost town. Shops are closed up, hardly any cars on the street. My mind wanders to the fantasy that’s been playing on a loop for months since I remembered her. A life – a real life – no running from HYDRA or the government – with her. Lazy Sundays and movie marathons and late night talks about nothing in particular. Traveling the world with her – going to destinations instead of going on missions. A cat and a dog. And if she wanted kids – god, I would set aside my fears just to give her what she wanted. Anything she wanted.

Doubt crept into my mind. The way she ran yesterday put a stormcloud over my thoughts. But, it was hard to not get my hopes up. I wanted a better life for her. For us.

The sun is poking out over the horizon, the sky is a mix of bold oranges and pastel pinks and blues. It’s gorgeous. The city is starting to wake up, more people are coming out to enjoy their Saturday.

I shove my hand in my pocket as I make my way back to the intersection that started all of this. I stare at the signs, hoping that they’ll point me in the right direction.

I head to the park across the street, watching people walk their dogs along the sidewalks. I wander around aimlessly, lost in my own thoughts.

I come to a part of the park that has an open field and an obstacle course. It must be a dog park. There’s a few people out playing with their pets, and the–

Holy shit. She’s here.

##  **Paris, France; 2016**

**Your Point of View**

Saturdays were your favorite days. You could sit on this bench uninterrupted and watch your great-niece live a normal life. She always came to the park with her dog. You desperately wanted to make contact with her, to feel the connection of a real family; but your fears kept you away. You were fearful of the questions that would surely come. You were afraid that she would despise you for the things you’ve done.

You look through your Pinterest boards on your phone to break up your stares. Keeping a low profile was still number one on your list. With that train of thought, your mind wandered back to yesterday. To the face you’d desperately waiting to see. Your chest tightened as you dared to hope you’d see him again today.

Claire is throwing a frisbee around, excitedly telling her golden retriever to go get it. The dog bounds away, happy as can be, until he catches it and brings it back.

When you glance back down to your phone, you feel it. Someone’s watching you. It’s becoming second nature again, and you despise that until you realize who it could be.

You toss your hair out of your face and discreetly look around. He’s leaning against a tree off to your left. Your heart hammers in your chest, knowing he’s not there to hurt you. Just the idea that you were both free – and that he found you – sends your heart into a flutter. You smirk down at your phone, calling, “You can come sit with me, if you want,” You turn and smile in his direction. “I won’t kick you again.”

He looks honestly shocked that you’re speaking to him. After what happened in the bookstore, you’re not surprised. You were pulling a 180 as far as attitude was concerned. He looks relieved as a small smile graces his features. Warmth floods your system, knowing that his smile was for you.

You notice that he’s careful with his steps, and his left arm isn’t swinging beside him. You wonder what has happened to it. Your eyes rake over him as he sits beside you with some (but not much) personal space between you. He’s got the beginnings of a beard on his beautiful face and his long hair is tied in a bun behind his head. He dons a gray shirt under the same black jacket from yesterday. He’s still weaponless, posing no threat to you.

Satisfied with your search, you shift your body closer to his as you face Claire and her dog again. His warmth soothes your soul instantly. You feel that bond reawakening. It takes you a moment to find the words you want to say. “Sorry for yesterday,” you start quietly, putting your phone in your pocket. “I’m sure you understand.”

He hums, and out of the corner of your eye you see a small smile pulling on his lips. “I thought you would have skipped down.”

You breathe a laugh through your nose. Seventeen years apart, and he still intimately knew your response to danger. “I thought about it for a very long time,” You answered truthfully. “But, when I finally went back home and you weren’t there waiting to kill me, I knew you weren’t part of HYDRA anymore.”

Silence filled the space between you, making you realize how little you actually know this man. How could he feel so familiar and so foreign at the same time? You share your deepest connection with him. An entire lifetime was spent with him, but you don’t know how to make small talk with him.

Oh, god, you wanted to learn.

You wanted to know what he remembers from before. You want to know how he takes his coffee and if he has a life, now. You’re dying to know what kind of music he enjoys and how his hair feels between your fingers. How he looks in the mornings right after he wakes up. What his voice sounds like during a fight. You want to learn it all.

“Bucky, how did you find me?” You turn towards him again, smirking at his scandalized expression.

A laugh escapes you as his mouth bobs, trying to find the words he’s looking for. “Wha–How did you know–?”

You laughed until your sides hurt. His face was priceless! So shocked that you knew who he was before HYDRA had their hands on him. You wrap your left arm around his right, leaning into his body, laying your cheek on his shoulder. “You’ve got your own part of an exhibit in a museum in New York. Did you know that?” You smile, feeling his hand sliding to your knee. His thumb makes slow, soothing arcs into your jeans. “A decorated war hero. I learned who you were before HYDRA very quickly, Bucky Barnes.” Your words sound heavy, even to your own ears.

“And who were you?” He asks, not skipping a beat.

You don’t know. You weren’t lucky enough to be Captain America’s best friend, and only Howling Commando to give his life. You didn’t have a museum exhibit. You didn’t have stories told about you. You were just a girl from Italy, whose family moved to France during the war. You had one younger sister, who has now since passed. These were the only facts you had. You smile up at Bucky sadly. “My name is Y/N. The rest, I’m still trying to figure out.”

He smiles and leans in, pressing a tentative kiss to your hairline. You feel him tense up immediately after the affectionate action, but you don’t let him dwell on it. You nuzzle your cheek into his shoulder again, hoping that it got your point across. Your affection towards him makes an ugly realization rear its head, and you’re suddenly on the verge of tears. “Bucky, I’m sorry.” You whisper.

He shrugs your face away from his arm to look at you. His brow is contracted with worry. Removing his hand from your leg, his fingers encase your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Why would you be sorry, Y/N?”

Hearing your name fall from his lips causes tears to fall. You gasp for breath around the lump in your throat. “I wanted to go back for you.”

You can see his heart shatter in the way he looks at you. Survivor’s guilt was a hell of a thing. It didn’t matter that you two were together now, your brain was forcing you to feel guilty for the past years that you could have been together.

Bucky releases your chin and wraps his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his warm side. You go willingly, breathing him in, attempting to calm yourself down. You feel his lips pressing kisses into your hair as he calms you. “We found each other, and I’m not gonna lose you again.”

You stay in his side for a moment longer, then peek up at him through your lashes. “Bucky, how do we forgive ourselves for the things we’ve done?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll help you, if you’ll have me.”

Your gaze hardens on him and he smiles at you cheekily. “Of course I’ll have you.” You scoff like it’s the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard. You wipe your eyes hastily and laugh at your sudden showcase of emotion.

When you look back at Bucky, his oceanic blue eyes are locked on yours. You smile at him, soft and unsure, before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

His fingers ghost up your neck to cup your jaw. His hand is so big, it feels like it’s encasing your whole cheek and spilling back down to your neck. He touches his forehead to yours in a silent affirmation. You’re staring at him while his eyes are closed. The lines around his eyes are beautiful. There’s small freckles dusted around his face that you’ve never seen before.

“Can I..?” He asks before opening those piercing cerulean eyes.

You know what he’s going to ask, and you nod, shifting your mouth closer to his. You both wait, breathing the same air, feeling the tension rise. You bump your nose against his gently, teasingly, and smile when his lips finally press against yours. It’s new, yet familiar; and you’ve never felt more in control. You stay there softly kissing each other, exploring one another, until you feel eyes on you again. You reluctantly separate your mouth from Bucky, stroking a finger across his jaw.

Bucky sighs, “You punk, I swear to god–”

You look behind the bench to see Captain America himself grinning broadly and making his way towards you with an outstretched hand. “Hi, Steve Rogers, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

You smile cheekily at Bucky before grasping Steve’s hand. “Y/N. The pleasure’s all mine.”


End file.
